What if
by Rouch
Summary: What if See One, Do One, Teach One played out differently. M for future chapters. No Rizzles, just friends.
1. Gabriel Dean Stayed

**What if…**

Chapter 1: …Gabriel Dean Stayed

Agent Dean watched Jane unconsciously rub the scars on her hands. He, of course, knew what happened to them, but wanted the detective to feel like she had control over her story. He hadn't known her long, but you didn't need to know Detective Rizzoli long to understand her vehement loathing for vulnerability. "What happened to your hands?" he asked as nonchalantly has he could, yet internally stealing himself for the inevitable defensiveness.

The feisty brunette bristled and folder her arms around herself, hiding her hands, "Why are you so interested in this case?"

Deflection, Gabriel noted. "That's need to know," he answered, trying to lighten the mood.

"Seriously? You fed guys actually say that?" she asked incredulously.

Raising his hands, he shrugged. It was the truth, as cliché as it sounded. He could tell the jig was up. Rizzoli wasn't stupid, far from it. She knew he'd read the files. No self-respecting FBI agent would have walked into a murder investigation without knowing all the facts. Without knowing all the players. And Jane Rizzoli was at the center of anything having to do with Charles Warren Hoyt. "I bet you never even once considered leaving the force, did you?"

Just like that, the steely resolve lifted, and the resilient homicide detective transformed into a person. It wasn't vulnerability, it wasn't fear. It's was something else and Gabriel tried to put his finger on it. It wasn't until she started talking that he identified this new quality. Honesty. It graced her features, making her even more beautiful.

"Sure I did," she answered and then her gaze shifted from the agent in front of her to a demon from the past that haunted her mind's eye. "When Hoyt had me pinned to the floor with a scalpel to my neck."

A second's pause was all Dean could detect, and he only picked up on the moment because he was so highly attuned to the moment. In those few seconds, Jane Rizzoli was not present. No doubt seconds were all that was needed for her to remember the immeasurable pain of scalpels piercing both hands and the terror knowing she was helpless. Her ability to fight back stolen from her, the cold metal of the blade resting on her sensitive neck. One flick of the wrist from her tormentor and warm blood would wash over them both.

What if Vince Korsak hadn't burst through the door at that moment? What if his bullets hadn't hit their mark?

She swallowed after the seconds past. "And now there are two of them, hunting me down like a pack of wolves." Her eyes piercing his. Unspoken questions floated between them.

Gabriel held her gaze as long as he comfortably could. She was challenging him to ask another question. She would not volunteer more information, but she wasn't stopping him from probing deeper. He glanced around. He wanted more. He wanted to know more, he wanted to know her. "You want me to stay?"

"Hmm?" It was rare to catch Jane Rizzoli off guard, but it was very clear that wasn't the question she was expecting. "No? No."

The first 'no' was clearly a question, the second a reaction. And they came in rapid succession. Dean tried to hide the feelings disappoint, hurt, and rejection that were no doubt playing across his face.

Jane finally processed the situation and realized how harsh she must have sounded. "I don't me **no**. I mean no…like no." she emphasized each no, trying to convey the different definitions with different voice inflections, doing her best to smooth over the rough edges. She wanted him to stay. Needed the safety and human contact it would bring, but was battling her insane need to appear strong and independent. Anything but helpless or needy.

Not wanting to push the issue, Dean shook it off. "Well, thank you for the coffee," was all he could muster as he took another sip. The awkwardness of the moment hanging over both of them. "Alright," he stood and walked toward the door and opened it. As he turned to face her one last time, he felt her hand on his forearm.

They both froze. Both too scared to say or do the wrong thing. It was Jane that finally acted. She walked past Gabriel and poked her head out the door, her hand never leaving his arm but keeping it shielded by the door. She searched the hallway for her partner, who was already moving toward her. "Agent Dean is going to stay and fill me in on the FBI's investigation," she said, her grip contracting around Dean's arm, willing him to go with her white lie. "You need to go home and get some sleep, he volunteered to take your post once we're done."

If Barry Frost was reading between the lines he never let on. He nodded his head in confirmation, "Call me if you need anything," he said professionally. "I can come pick you up on my way to work." He offered.

A genuine smile touched her eyes. "Thanks Frost. I'll text in the morning and let you know." She watched him retreat toward the front door. Only once he disappeared from sight did she close the door and look at Gabriel. He was studying her hand. He was amazed how it was delicate, strong, and wounded all at the same time. He realized those were all the reasons he found himself attracted to her. She was a walking paradox. Without thinking, he brought his free hand up and traced the angry scar with his fingers. The old wound was raised on the back of her hand. She was pinned laying on her back, arms above her head, forced to face her attacker. Her hand twitched as if he hit a sensitive spot. His head shot up, searching her eyes.

So many emotions swirled in the black abyss. She hadn't withdrawn her hand, but she was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "I'm sorry, do they hurt?" he asked, laying his palm across her hand. Squeezing is gently.

Jane breathed out slowly. "When it rains. When I close my fists too tight," she paused. "When I think about that night…" she finally admitted.

Lifting her hand to his mouth, Gabriel placed a gentle kiss over the scar, trying to will away the phantom pains. Jane watched him, afraid to ruin the moment with some ill-timed comment. Those who knew her well avoided looking at her scars, even fewer dared touch her hands. Frankie and Maura were the only two that dared break the unspoken barrier from time to time. In fact, the last to touch them had been Frankie the night before, reminding her of the danger she was in. It was a bold move done out of love and frustration. He meant well, which was why she hadn't lashed out at him. Only now did she remember Frost objecting to his manhandling. Her protector that would never hurt a fly without cause, but she never doubted his fierce loyalty.

Finally, Jane cleared her throat, snapping them both out of their respective trances. "More coffee?" she asked.

Gabriel leaned in toward he lips. "No thanks, it's pretty terrible," he admitted with a smirk, waiting for some sign of permission to kiss her.

Jane moved in slightly, an unspoken approval for the passionate kissed that followed. Breaking away, Jane leaned her forehead against Gabriel's, their hands intertwined.

"You should try to get some sleep," Gabriel offered, leading her into her apartment, but not sure which direction to move toward her bedroom until Jane took the lead.

-/-

Jane woke with a start, trying to find her bearings. Scanning the darkness she recognized her bedroom. Looking down, she pushed the arm away that had been draped over her midsection. Clearing the sleep from her eyes, she looked over to see Gabriel Dean watching her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to…sometimes it takes me…sorry," she wasn't sure how to explain her regular disorientation that occurred after a nightmare.

"Shh," he whispered and leaned in to kiss her forehead.

Closing her eyes, Jane breathed in and enjoyed the momentary safety she felt in his embrace. They were both still fully clothed laying on top her covers. There were still too many dangers for them to have dropped their guard completely. In Jane's mind the dangers extended beyond Hoyt and his apprentice to the risk of truly letting Dean in to her life. Just as she was about to apologize for falling asleep on him in the middle of their conversation the distinct sound of broken glass shattered the stillness. Both reached for their guns that were only an arm's length away and were on their feet in the blink of an eye.

"Call 9-11," Dean instructed.

"It might just be that dog of Korsak's," she tried to reason, but was stopped when Gabriel cocked his head toward the foot of her bed where Jo Friday lay sleeping. More thumps spurred Jane to reach for her cell phone, but she was dressed for a comforting night in, not geared up for work and her cell wasn't clipped to a belt. "I must have left my phone in the kitchen."

Agent Dean was closest to the phone on her night stand, and reached it in two long strides. Holding her breath, Jane watched the small evidence of concern cross his face, and her deep rooted fear was starting to become reality. "The line's dead," he whispered and set the handset down to get a better grip on his gun. Before another word was spoken, the bedroom door burst open, and a blurry figure charged Gabriel, knocking him to the ground before he could aim his weapon.

Without thinking Jane moved toward the pile of limbs struggling for the upper hand, and felt a white hot jolt hit her in the lower back. Stun gun, she thought as she lost all muscle control and dropped unceremoniously to the ground. She saw boots enter her line of sight, as someone crouched down. "Hi, Jane. So good to see you again," Charles Hoyt said as she felt the prick of a needle pierce her neck. The sounds of struggle across the room began to fade as her world went black.


	2. Hoyt got them both

**Warning:** allusions to sexual assault in this chapter, nothing graphic but the theme is present. All around heavy chapter, definitely not fluffy.

What if…

Chapter 2: …Hoyt got them both

Jane knew something was wrong, but couldn't remember what. Nightmare, she decided as she tried to shake the heavy feeling of sleep. She attempted to bring her hand up to rub her eyes, but both hands seemed to be attached to something.

Hoyt.

Her eyes shot open and came face to face with her nightmare. She had duct tape covering her mouth as she lay pinned to her living room floor by the weight of Charles Hoyt who straddled her chest. As she brought her hands up to push the man off her, she saw the grey tape affixed at her wrists.

"Welcome back," he said, bringing a gun into her line of sight. Her head moved frantically, looking for Gabriel. It didn't take long for her eyes to meet his. He was duct taped as well, a thin red line of blood ran down his face from a wound on his forehead. More blood dripped from his nose onto the tape covering his mouth. He was sitting on her couch with a scalpel pressed against his neck. Her eyes shifted to the man attached to the weapon and recognized him immediately. He was one of Maura's techs. She had seen him at several crime scenes including the murder in West Roxbury. His crime scene she realized. He moved his murder victim using his official capacity for the ME's office.

Hoyt touched her face with the gun, demanding her attention. "Agent Dean here put up quite a fight," he taunted her. "I didn't think we'd have an audience for this part." His words started to sink in, they were going to rape her in front of him and then kill him. At the thought she renewed her struggles. Hoyt clipped her temple with the side of the gun, just hard enough to daze her. "I'm going to take the tape off your mouth and you're not going to scream, right?"

Jane nodded and stifled a moan as the tape was ripped away. She stayed quiet for a beat, trying to gain some composure. "You have me, let him go," she finally said, her voice as steady as she could manage. She watched as Hoyt processed her words.

"Now, how much fun would that be?" he asked glancing to the two men on the other side of the room. "You know how I like an audience."

"Hoyt, please. I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt him," she pleaded knowing she was taking a risk. Exposing her emotions to this sadistic killer may make matters worse, but when the only outcome she could anticipate was death, it was hard to think how barging could make it worse.

He appeared to be mulling the offer over while muffled protests drifted over from the Dean. A sickening smile grew on Hoyt's face, making Jane swallow down a lump in her throat. The weight on her chest shifted as he leaned over to whisper in her ear. The next words would be meant only for her. "Give me your hands and I promise I won't kill him," he said applying pressure to the scar on her right hand with his thumb and forefinger.

Instantly she knew what he was asking. She knew the price she would have to pay to save Gabriel's life. As Hoyt straightened she met his eyes and could only nod, afraid her voice would betray her. He let out a laugh of pure joy and reached for a scalpel that had been laid out on her coffee table. Jane hadn't noticed them before. There were five more lined up on the glass. With one swift motion he cut the tape free that had been binding her wrist together. "Let's go," he said in anticipation.

Taking a moment to steel herself, Jane looked up to the confused and terrified face of Gabriel. He had been watching the exchange intently and knew she had agreed to the killer's terms, but was still in the dark about the details of those terms. Slowly, Jane raised her left hand up over her head and opened her palm. The motion sent muffled screams and sounds of struggle from across the room, but Jane didn't flinch, didn't hesitate.

White hot pain exploded from her hand as Hoyt brought the scalpel down with such force its point embedded itself into the hardwood floor. She would have screamed if a hand hadn't been suddenly covering her mouth. Hoyt wasn't stupid. An apartment complex was less than ideal for the torture he liked in inflict. Thin walls; neighbors above, below and all around. He had to control the noise until he was ready to move along.

"Now the other hand," he requested breathing hard. Jane could feel how excited he was getting and felt bile rising up her throat. She tried to swallow it down, but lost the battle as she turned her head to expel the fluid. She hadn't eaten all day and was grateful for that small comfort. "Oh baby, I'm so sorry," Hoyt cooed, wiping the side of her mouth with his hand.

Moving her head away, his hand followed and she gave up, closed her eyes and tried to settle her stomach.

"The other hand," he demanded again.

Jane made eye contact with Gabriel one more time, trying to draw strength from knowing her actions may save his life and tried to communicate her acceptance of her fate. If Hoyt kept his word, she didn't want the guilt to overwhelm the agent. Her eyes never wavering, she placed her right hand above her head, palm open. This time, she didn't need to be silenced. The pain was such a shock she passed out before a sound could escape her lips.

-/-

Jane came to, a weight moving on top of her. She understood instantly what was happening, the apprentice likes his women lifeless and unmoving she thought. The pain at her waist and the feeling of cool air washing over her bare legs confirmed her current predicament. A shift in weight jostled her hands, making her cry out. The man on top of her gripped her throat squeezing her air way. Jane didn't fight the affects. She much preferred to be unconscious for the rest of his time with her. This time, she welcomed the darkness like an old friend.

-/-

Coming around again, Jane's eyes slowly opened. Moving just her eyes, she tried to locate their captors without calling attention to herself. The light of dusk was seeping through the curtains and she knew their next move was to relocate her to continue the torture. Not sensing their presence, she slowly turned her head to check on Gabriel. He looked defeated. Tears had washed away lines in the dried blood on his face. The anguish she felt as they made eye contact was more than she could bare and she turned away but elicited a sound of protest from the man who was wracked with guilt.

The door to the fire escape opened, Jane knew it was time to say good-bye. She glanced down and was relieved to see her pants were covering her again. A shadow made her look up and she saw Hoyt standing over her. "Ready to go, baby?" he asked, the familiarity causing her to grimace. With some careful manipulation, he freed the scalpels from the floor, but left them firmly embedded in the palms of both her hands. Jane wasn't sure if she was grateful she was spared the pain of removing the instruments or annoyed at their continued presence. In one swift motion, Hoyt place his hands under her arms and lifted her onto her feet. Her knees buckled and she leaned heavily against her demon. "Shh, I got you baby," he cooed caressing the back of her head.

She was too weak to protest, but Dean did enough for the both of them as he suddenly came alive. The apprentice moved in front of him, swiftly injected him with something, and hoisted the limp body over his shoulder.

"No," Jane protested. "We had a deal."

"I promised not to kill him," he explained. "He's coming with us."

-/-

Maura Isles forcefully ended her call after hearing Jane's voicemail pick up. She knew it was early, but her friend's bravado in the face of Charles Hoyt had left her on edge. She could at least answer the phone, Maura thought.

As the light she had stopped at turned green, the ME made her decision and turned sharply across two vacant lanes. The early hour left the normally bustling intersection barren. She'd just have to swing by Jane's place on the way to work. Along the way, the stately homes of the more well to do neighborhoods gave way to modest homes occupied by the city's working class. Blocks peppered with houses and apartment complexes provided a sense of normality. Something that intrigued Dr. Isles. Normal wasn't a state she inhabited and she knew it, and yet her friend Jane Rizzoli still accepted her as she was.

Entering a familiar stretch of road, the ME realized she needed to develop a convincing reason for the early morning visit. Rizzoli had been battling inner demons leading to some borderline irresponsible decisions about her safety; and she hadn't been reacting well to anyone questioning those decisions. Glancing down at her Armani dress and Louboutin heels, she couldn't claim a morning jog had brought her. Before a plausible excuse could present itself, she heard her phone ring. Without looking at the caller ID, she assumed it was Jane returning her call. "Jane, you promised to call me when you woke up," she admonished.

"Dr. Isles, its Detective Frost," the deep baritone voice interrupted the ME's lecture. "You need to come to Detective Rizzoli's apartment.

At that moment, Maura cleared a curve revealing a sea of police lights. Without a word, she hung up the phone, hastily parked the car and ran for the apartment building. Chest heaving from adrenaline, she took the stairs two at a time and skidded to a halt in front of the open door labeled number 12 with brass numbers. From the open door, she could see blood pooled on the living room floor, blood drops scattered throughout the apartment, and, with relief, noted the absence of any arterial spray. Frost met her at the door. "Where's Jane?" she demanded with more strength than she felt.

The detective shook his head handing her paper shoe coverings, "We don't know. We're pulling surveillance video from all the surrounding cameras right now. CSU hasn't arrived yet. I came by about 10 minutes ago when she wasn't answering her phone and her landline was dead."

Maura took in the information as she placed the protective booties over her shoes. Moving slowly, she tried to put the pieces she was seeing together. Drawn to the pools of blood on the floor, she studied the pattern. There were two large pools, about two and a half feet apart. Each one had a void of blood in the middle where it had clotted and begun drying. The wood had fresh chips removed. Dr. Maura Isles never jumped to conclusions, but in this moment, she didn't feel very much like Dr. Maura Isles. "Oh god," she breathed, placing a hand over her mouth.

"What?" Frost hesitantly asked, unsure if he wanted to know what the ME knew.

Maura stood straight and looked at the young detective. "Her hands," she whispered. "He did it again." Noting the blood drops around the area, she determined the directional indicators and followed them around the couch to the kitchen. "They went out the fire escape," she told him.

Moving back to the living room, Maura did her best to avoid looking at her companion. She was certain she couldn't handle the emotions playing out on his face in that moment. She needed a clear head. Looking at the couch she saw blood drops on the cushions with a telling void. "Someone else was here. Did someone stay the night with her?" she asked finally looking at Frost.

Nodding his head, the sadness was almost tangible. "Agent Dean came by last night. Jane—" his voice cracked, "Jane told me to go home. That the two of them were going to work on the FBI case."

Moving to his side, Maura placed a steady hand on her friend's shoulder. "This isn't your fault, we'll find her," she said with confidence. 'They had to,' she finished to herself. "It looks like they both left here alive, injured but alive. And judging by the blood drops leading to the exit, they can't be very far. Maybe 30 minutes away."

With that information Detective Frost sprung to action. Grabbing his radio he started issuing orders, "I need barricades and checkpoints in a 40 miles radius of this crime scene immediately, and where the hell is CSU?" he demanded.

"Here," a voice answered from behind them. A CSU tech was donning gloves and protective foot coverings outside the threshold. Picking up his case, Maura crossed the room to meet the skinny analyst. She knew him well, a professional scientist, methodical. She didn't have time for methodical…if Jane could see her now she thought.

"Ted, give me your UV light," she demanded. She needed to be the one to confirm her suspicions before anyone else arrived. Taking the compact light that was offered, Dr. Isles moved to the third blood pool. It was much smaller than the two from Jane's hands, and the location was telling—roughly four feet down the midline. Turning the light on, bright blue spots fluoresced. Evidence of seamen. Maura stood, returned the light to the tech, and in hushed tones instructed him to take swabs of the examined area for DNA samples.

The CSU tech's eyes grew wide with understanding.

Moving to Frost's side, she tried to avoid his questioning gaze. "They raped her," she announced quietly and Frost moved to leave the apartment to get some air. Maura rested a hand on his arm to stop him. "This isn't a homicide, you should get a different team to investigate this. You should call the FBI," she instructed.

He could only nod as he left the apartment, leaving Maura and Ted alone with the evidence. Maura scanned the floor once more and noticed the analyst was collecting samples near the large blood pools. Bile. How had she missed that? It was a sign that Barry wasn't the only one compromised by emotions. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she moved toward the bedroom.

The bed didn't look like it have been slept in, but the quilt was disheveled with a throw blanket bunched up at the end of the bed. She imagined Jane and Agent Dean relaxing on the bed, talking, maybe more. An illogical burst of jealously hit her, which she dismissed. Just because they were best friends didn't mean she owned the sole rights to comfort Jane.

Moving further into the room, signs of a struggle near the night stand were evident. Someone tried to get to the phone. Knowing what Detective Frost had said about the landline, it wouldn't have helped even if they reached it. So they must not have had their cell phones handy. "Damn it Jane," she breathed. Her friend let her guard down, and anger toward Agent Dean replaced the jealousy.

Sensing a presence behind her, she turned quickly and saw Vince Korsak at the bedroom door. "Sergeant, you shouldn't be here," she said focusing on the gaze covering his own wounds sustained from the current case. Shifting her gaze back to his eyes, the look on his face stopped any further admonishment. None of them should be there. Nodding her head in acknowledgement to the unspoken conversation, she turned back to the bedroom. "Signs of a struggle by the night stand. It looks like they were taken by surprise."

"They?" Vince asked. The information hadn't spread through the unit yet.

"Agent Dean relieved Detective Frost last night, he stayed with her in the apartment," she explained.

Vince nodded stepping into the room, "Only one person struggled," he noted.

Maura realized the truth of his statement, "Only one of them was able to fight back." They exchanged knowing looks. Then steeling herself, the ME knew the next piece of information needed to come from a friend, "He did it to her again," she told him. "Her hands."

Anger flared across the detective's face, "Why didn't I kill him when I had the chance?"

"I think there will be enough blame to go around, focus on getting her back," she offered.

-/-

Jane grunted as she rolled in the back of the van as the driver took a hard right turn. She heard a curse and the faint sounds of sirens. Roadblocks, she thought and hope sparked within her. Her team knew. They'd find them. She just needed to stay alive. Looking around the van she tried to find something useful. Gabriel was still out cold, but seemed to be coming around.

The van slowed, she feared they were stopping. She wasn't ready, they weren't ready. But with relief, the vehicle accelerated once again. This time, it felt like they were on a dirt road. And then branches hit the side of the vehicle. The forest reserve, it had to be to only place left for them to run to. Glancing back at Gabriel she saw his eyes looking back at her and then his gaze shifted to her hands. Scalpels protruding from the bleeding wounds. Jane knew they were her only hope. Bracing herself, she grabbed one with her teeth. Dean grunted next to her. She didn't know if it was a good grunt or a bad grunt, but he had to trust her.

With a swift pull the blade was out and she was seeing stars. At the same moment, the van was slowing again. They were running out of time. The thought provided a needed burst of adrenaline, keeping her conscious. Jane made quick work of Gabriel's bindings. His hand griped her forearm. Had it only been a few hours since she had done the same to him, stopping him from leaving her apartment? Guilt and regret flooded over her, if only she had let him go, he wouldn't be here with her. "Shh, I think we're stopping," she whispered. "It's the forest reserve. Surprise is the only advantage we'll have."

He nodded his understanding, leaving the tape over his mouth and shifted to obscure the cut tape around his knees and wrists. All they could do was wait for the opportunity and hope they both got out of the van alive.

-/-

Frost watched multiple video files run on his computer screens. Reviewing the video surveillance was the only useful thing he could do at the moment. The FBI was taking over the crime scene, and every available unit had cast a thorough net around the targeted radius. Unfortunately, even his current task was proving difficult. His mind would drift back to his partner's apartment and cause him to miss minutes of footage. Cursing, he'd back the tape up. As far as he was concerned, he had already failed Jane once, he could not overlook a millisecond of tape.

Suddenly he caught a glimpse of something in the bottom right window. A familiar black van with the Medical Examiner seal on it. But there had been no reported deaths the night before. Even if it wasn't a suspected homicide, there would have been a report in the morning blotter had the ME's office been dispatched to pick up a body. Pausing all the cameras, he followed the black van through the video feeds.

"Did you find something?" Korsak asked behind Frost.

Barry wasn't surprised to see Vince in the bullpen. He had likely left the hospital AMA after learning Jane was missing and he had likely left the crime scene for the same reasons Frost had. "I think so," Frost said returning his attention to the monitor. "Find out if the ME's van was used for any official business last night?"


	3. they got away

What if…

Chapter 3: …they got away

Finally, the van came to a stop and the engine cut off. This is it, Jane thought. There would be no time to think, just react. Looking one last time into Agent Dean's eyes, they both spoke volumes to each other without a word being spoken. They were ready to risk their lives for each other. Whether that was the comradery that naturally existed between law enforcement personnel or something deeper, Jane didn't analyze.

The back doors open. Instinctually, she tried to back up further into the van, but Hoyt grabbed her ankle, and pulled her down to him. A shocked cry escaped her mouth, but she had the presence of mind to keep her scalpel-free hand covered. She couldn't expose their advantage. Stretching her feet, the toes of her shoes scraped the earth outside the van, but she wasn't able to plant her feet. Strangely, Jane was grateful she had disobeyed years of scolding from her mother and had laid down on her bed with her tennis shoes on. Craning her neck, she saw Gabriel's feet were also protected. They could run. Now they just needed the opportunity to incapacitate them both or separate the team.

"We're going to lay low for a while, Jane. Your friends have us boxed in," Hoyt's voice demanded her attention once again. "John's going to keep you company here while I go look for a place to play." She hated that the fear that burned through her face, but it seemed to amuse Hoyt. "Don't worry, I won't be gone long." He traced a scalpel lightly across her cheek, but before he broke her skin he pulled Jane roughly to her feet and handed her over to the man he called John.

"No," she whimpered, hating how small she sounded and prayed Gabriel wouldn't act too soon trying to spare her more pain. A stray hand groped her chest. "Please stop," she begged.

"Shut up," he hissed, clearly intolerant to his victims talking back. He pushed her against a tree, hands freely roaming her body. Jane closed her eyes, trying to escape that moment in time, but quickly opened them. She had to watch Hoyt leave the area, she had to get a signal to Agent Dean when the time had come to turn the tables on their tormentors. Trying to push the weight away to get a better view of the surrounds, Jane groaned, remembering the holes that once again crippled her hands.

The movement elicited a curse of frustration from the burly man crushing her against the tree. His hands circled her neck, but this time, she wasn't interested in the darkness, this time, her anger flared. Bringing her knee up swiftly, his yell of pain confirmed she had found the sensitive spot. Grinning, their eyes met and she stared into a blaze of hatred. Before he could react to her assault, suddenly the weight was gone. Her partner rushed in so quickly, that Jane lost her footing at the rapid change.

_Agent Dean_ silently twist the apprentice's neck, but _Gabriel _reached Jane before the lifeless body had even hit the ground. Concern flooded over the man who crouched down in front of the wounded detective. "Jane. Jane…" he couldn't bring himself to ask if she was ok. Of course she wasn't, he had witnessed every moment of torture inflicted on the tenacious woman. When he had heard the man, now laying at his feet, shout in pain, he knew it was time to fight back, that she was fighting back. He wanted to give a moment to compose herself, but time was of the essence, Hoyt was still out there and they had to find safety.

Shaking violent, Jane tried to nod her head, but had very little control over her muscles. She knew shock was finally setting in and she was in trouble if she couldn't get her treacherous body under control. Trying to hold on to Gabriel as he lifted her to her feet merely reminded her again of the wounds in her hands. She was forced to passively let him embrace her. A sob escaped her lips. "Shh," he cooed, caressing the back of her hair. "It's ok, we're going to get out of here."

Helping her back to the van, he stopped to search the apprentice's body for keys, coming up empty, he grabbed the gun poking out of a holster and secured weapon in his waist band. Leaning Rizzoli against the van, he opened the door and searched inside. Hoyt must have taken the keys with him. Dean looked in Jane's eyes, trying to assess her condition. Bruises marred her right temple and neck, her pupils were dilated from either a head injury, shock or fear or all of the above. Blood dripped from the hand hanging loosely at her side containing the metal blade, and a steady stream ran off her fingers on the hand that had been sacrificed to free him from his bonds. And those were the injuries he could see. Was she strong enough to run? The question ran though his mind, but was dismissed after making eye contact once again. "Jane, we have to run, the keys aren't here. Did you see what direction Hoyt went?" he finally asked.

Jane had watched the man in front of her scan her body, noting the toll the past twelve hours had taken. Clearly she looked as bad as she felt but she was grateful Gabriel hadn't questioned her ability to run. It would have been a legitimate question, but they both knew she still had a lot of fight left in her. "Yeah, he headed up that ridge," she started to point, but settled on nodding her head toward the hill straight ahead of her. Taking one unsteady step forward, Dean took hold of her wrist and they ran in the opposite direction.

-/-

The Boston Police Department had all hands patrolling the targeted area. Frost had been able to confirm the ME's van hadn't left the perimeter they had established hours earlier, but it still felt like a needle in a hay stack. The densely populated suburb was an urban jungle and Korsak was getting impatient. Maura sat rigid in the passenger seat studying a map of the area. Somehow she had convinced him that it was best she rode with him, in case her medical expertise was needed…he still wasn't sure what spell she had cast on him to win that battle.

"It's been hours," Maura whispered knowing the longer it took to find them, the worse the outcome was going to be.

"We'll find them," Vince told her, only half believing it himself. As they passed a familiar intersection, he stopped suddenly. They had been down the adjacent road many times that week. "The reserve," he said out loud. Maura looked knowingly at him, this had to be it. Korsak picked up the radio and called for backup before turning down the dirt road.

-/-

"Jane, stop," Gabriel said slowing his pace. The brunette kept moving forward, showing no signs of hearing him. "Jane, stop," he repeated gently guiding her by the elbow to a fallen tree and easing her down onto it.

"What, I can keep going," she said, trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him. Her hands were screaming at her and blood still oozed from the wounds. The hand with the scalpel seemed to be faring better, but any movement of the foreign object had been excruciating.

The sunlight was filtering through the canopy. He guessed they had been walking for about 20 minutes, but they had been forced to head away from the closest exit. It could be another hour of walking before they reached help, and that was assuming they didn't get turned around. "I know Jane, but we've got some distance and we need to look at your hands," he told her, kneeling down to eye level. Removing his shirt, he started ripping strips of cloth to use as bandages. The task gave him something to focus on.

Jane watched his muscles play beneath his white undershirt. She didn't want to push him away like she had Korsak, but wasn't sure she'd be able to stop herself. Being a female in a traditionally male dominated world had led to arbitrary rules she created for herself. These rules ensured she'd be viewed as one of the guys, but the effect was fragile. One moment a competent cop, the next the damsel in distress. She had never resented that fact. How could you resent centuries of cultural programing? But when the line was crossed from cop to damsel, Jane instinctually constructed barriers. Would this be different? This man wasn't exactly her colleague, in fact, somewhere deep down she wanted him to see a damsel beneath the cop exterior. A competent damsel able to take care of herself, but more than one of the guys.

As Gabriel started wrapping her hands, trying to create pressure to stem the bleeding and stabilize the foreign object, she tried think beyond the moment. Unfortunately, her mind drifted to the events of the day.

She'd doubted she'd ever been the same again. Sure they may survive this trek through the woods, but if they found safety she would have to deal with the reality. The team was looking for her, which meant they had been to her apartment. They were good at their jobs and they would have already put the pieces together. They'd know the timeline of events that had taken place in the apartment she would never again call home. Insanely, she thought her best option would be to move to another city, escape the glances of pity and the overbearing sympathy that would forever label her a victim.

Jane hissed as Dean hit a particularly sensitive spot. Truth be told, she was grateful for the distraction.

"Sorry," he apologized slowing his movements. "I think it's best to leave the scalpel in this one," he told her examining her left hand.

She felt herself agreeing, mainly because she remembered the pain from the van when she had removed the other blade and she had no desire to repeat the process without a lot of drugs.

Dean grimaced as he brought the empty hand in question closer. "It looks infected already Jane, we need to get you to a doctor."

"Deal, they have painkillers," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "I think it's about another two miles to the service road or three miles to edge of town if we avoid the trails." Sitting in the car with Korsak a mere two days ago had given her some quality time with a map of the area. She memorized every possible entrance and exit, determined to catch anyone returning to the scene of the crime.

Nodding, Agent Dean was also familiar with the area. He'd spend several hours on foot, patrolling an area he guessed was a mile north of their position. "There's a stream about 15 minutes from here, but it's a little out of the way," he said. "What do you think? I could use some water."

They had lost their cover of darkness and she felt exposed. Heading deeper into the reserve didn't thrill her, but water was desperately needed. She looked at the handle of the handgun sticking out of Gabriel's waistband. That helped level the playing field if they ran into Hoyt.

Agent Dean watched the struggle play out on the features of her face. "Hey," he finally said, lifting her chin to shift her focus on him. "We'll still be moving away from Hoyt. You're hands are infected, you'd lost more blood than I'm comfortable with, and the longer we're out here, the more dehydrated you're going to get. We need to get some fluids in you in case help is farther away than we think."

Nodding, she knew he was thinking more rationally than she was, which made her angry at herself. She was letting fear influence her decisions. "Ok," she agreed. "Just give me one more minute." Her hands felt like they were on fire after the attention Dean had just given them.

"Yeah, ok," he agreed, joining her on the tree trunk. Wrapping an arm around her, she leaned heavily on him, allowing a sob to escape her lips. "Shh," he whispered. "You're going to get through this. We're going to get out of here."

-/-

Slowly approaching the black van, Korsak considered his options. He needed back up, but what if Jane needed immediate help? He was with a civilian that needed to be kept out of the line of fire, but would likely refuse to listen to his directions.

"What are we waiting for?" Maura asked reaching for the handle of her door.

"Just wait," Vince commanded. He leaned over and reached inside the glove compartment and withdrew his backup weapon.

Maura's eyes grew big has he set the cold metal in her hand.

"Don't point this at anything you don't intend to shoot," he instructed. "Stay close to me but behind me." It was a risk, but he didn't know where the perps were and the situation would only become immeasurable worse if somehow Dr. Isles became a hostage. He needed her in his sights.

Nodding her understanding, she waited for the sergeant to make the first move. Before he left the safety of the sedan, he radioed Frost who had split off to cover more area of the reserve. They were five minutes away.

The pair moved to the front of the car, "If anything happens, you run for the car," he told her handing her the keys. "Go get help."

"Ok," she agreed, understanding the seriousness of the situation. She had to trust this man even if her instincts told her to do something differently. Her instincts weren't trained for this scenario. His dubious look spoke volumes. "I promise," her honest words seemed to satisfy him and they began to move forward.

Slowly making their way toward the front of the van, it obscured any view behind the vehicle. They had to go in blind. The scene was eerily silent. That fact made Korsak's heart sink. If there were anyone in the vicinity, they likely needed an ME not a detective. Opening the door to the van's cab, more silence greeted them.

Then, finally reaching the back of the van, they saw a man lying face down, unmoving. Before approaching, Vince moved quickly to clear the back of the open van. The area appeared vacated. Except for one body. Checking for a pulse and finding none, the detective rolled the man over. He heard Maura gasp, which confused him. This wasn't either of the hostages they were looking for, sending her a questioning look, the ME lowered her hand from her mouth.

"That's John Stark," she said. "He works for me. Worked for me," she corrected. "Is he…do you think he's the apprentice?"

Before he could answer red and blue lights illuminated the van. Backup had arrived, but the action was long gone.

Maura moved to study the back of the van, the back of _her_ van. Blood coated the metal floor. There was more than she expected. Following a trail, she saw the remains of duct tape toward the back of the cargo hold. A glint of metal caught her eye. Carefully entering, she expertly avoided the blood evidence and peered under the pile of tape. With no gloves she didn't dare touch the evidence. What she saw confused her then instantly made her sick. A bloody scalpel. Had her friend used the scalpel from her hand to free Agent Dean? That would certainly explain the extra blood. She shivered at the thought. The fear someone had to feel to be willing to inflict such pain on themselves had to have been severe. Like an animal willing to chew off their own leg.

She couldn't get out fast enough and scrambled to the open air calling her.


	4. Hoyt got away

What if…

Chapter 4:…Hoyt got away

Approaching the stream, Gabriel steadied Rizzoli as they navigated the embankment. Momentarily losing her footing, Jane reached out for support. "Shit," she breathed as her hands made contact with Dean. She felt the scalpel push further through her hand. Tears sprung to her eyes.

"Easy," he whispered into her ear, grasping her forearms to remove the pressure from her hands. Helping her the rest of the way down to the water front, he eased her down onto a large rock. Gently cradling each hand in his, he inspected the makeshift bandages. Blood was soaked through both sides on both hands.

"I think we should take the scalpel out," she said with more certainty than she felt. "I just felt it move again, and it can't be doing much good if it's moving."

Gabriel squinted his eyes as he deliberated. Both hands seemed to be bleeding at the same rate now, the blade wasn't doing much good blocking the wound. And if she was right, that it was moving, it was likely doing more damage. "Ok," he finally said and gently unwrapped her left hand. The flesh was red and swollen, clearly infected. They had both had taken self-aid and field care training. The wounds had been left untreated for too long, even when they made it to medical treatment, sutures might be out of the question.

"What if they can't be fixed this time?" Jane asked. "What if I can never fire a gun again?"

He detected a small waver in her voice. "We can't think like that," Dean encouraged her. "We'll be out of here within the hour." Pausing he looked around and saw a few sticks close by. "Do you want to bite down on something? This might be worse than before."

Considering his words, Rizzoli nodded. It was a miracle that she hadn't screamed when she pulled the first blade out. She couldn't afford to signal their location if Hoyt was anywhere near them.

Unconvinced a stick would do the trick, Gabriel unbuckled his leather belt and slide it off in one swift motion.

"You're pretty good at that," Jane noted with a slight smile.

"You should see me work a bra," he responded smiling back. Offering the end of the belt, she opened her mouth and bit down. Her breathing sped up and she began to shake. "Deep breaths through the nose," he instructed breathing with her. The last thing she needed was to hyperventilate. Convinced her breathing was under control, he gripped the blade side and decided it was best to pull the handle through and not the sharp end that could cut undamaged nerves or tendons. "Jane, I'm not sure we should do this…both ends are dirty, I could be introducing new bacteria to the tissue…" He grabbed the belt to let her speak, it was her decision.

"Out," she breathed. "I need it out."

Nodding his understanding, he replaced the belt and steeled himself. With as swift and smooth a motion he could achieve, the scalpel moved through the battered hand and brought with it a gush of blood and a moan of pain. Jane leaned her head forward against his shoulder trying to breathe through the pain while Gabriel traced circles on her back with his hand. "Shh, I've got you," he whispered in her ear, holding her. His mind wandered to the late night coffee they had shared and how excited he was at the promise of a relationship with such a strong, funny and caring person. Today, he wondered how they would ever move forward from what must have been the worst night of her life. What if he had gotten the FBI more involved, could he had stopped Hoyt's escape? What if she could never be in the same room with him again without thinking of pain and humiliation?

He felt her shift back, having composed herself. "Ready to try some water?" he asked knowing if he was thirsty she had to be parched. With little effort, he helped her stand and move closer to the stream. He maneuvered her as close to the bank as he could and eased her down onto a soft patch of moss. As she folded her long legs to sit cross legged, she was able to rest her forearms on her knees, letting her hands hang limply. Moving into the water, Gabriel noted the blood soaked shirt he was wearing, and then looked down at his blood encrusted hands. Different layers of blood coated each hand and he looked like he had been in a war zone. Stooping down, he tried to clean himself up as best he could and moved to sit next to her. Scooping water up with both hands, he leaned closer to her allowing her to sip the cool liquid at her own pace.

Repeating the process several times, he couldn't help but feel as if this moment had been the most intimate moment he had ever shared with another person. In the stillness of the woods, the soothing sound of the water meandering through a slow current, Gabriel paused to give Jane a moment's rest. Glancing down toward her hand, thinking about re-bandaging, be froze. "You're bleeding," he said, his voice quiet but intense.

Rizzoli was taken aback. Of course she was bleeding. Her hands had been bleeding for hours now. Her brow crinkled in confusion as she followed his gaze. With horror, her eyes settled on her inner thigh. A stream of blood had trickled down. Moments, nightmare moments, flashed through her thoughts in rapid fire. So much of what happened was lost to unconsciousness, but they couldn't be denied. "Did they both?" she asked with more strength than she felt.

He swallowed, unfortunately, he had been conscious for every grueling second in the apartment. He shook his head as he willed back the tears. "No, just the apprentice," he confirmed.

Before another word could be spoke, Jane's eyes widen with a start. Movement. Agent Dean quickly shielded her with his body as he turned to face whatever it was that caused her to react. He reached for the gun and aimed in the general direction while she scanned the horizon. He saw it too. A flash of black flitting through gaps in the trees. Then another. And another. Quickly it sunk in, the cavalry had arrived. "Here!" he shouted once he saw a gold badge gleam on a uniformed chest.

Jane breathed out in relief, and leaned her forehead between his shoulder blades. In mere heartbeats, four cops surrounded them. She knew them all, and at first, she avoided their gaze while she heard one talking into his radio, "Bravo team has located Detective Rizzoli and Agent Dean. Twenty-six degrees northwest of our starting location. We need EMS to meet us at rally point Delta."

She needed to meet their eyes as equals not a victim. Finally, looking up, making eye contact with the most seasoned officer, relief flooded over her. They only emotion she could detect was respect. Looking at the other three she saw pride and relief.

The older officer moved to meet her, crouching to eye level, and Gabriel moved to give him some room. Before he spoke, he was removing his Kevlar vest. "Detective Rizzoli, I'm not sure if you remember me," he started.

She nodded, "Of course. Sergeant Burke."

"We're going to get you out of here, but I'd like you to put this on," he instructed handing the vest to Agent Dean.

He'd clearly known her injuries would make it impossible to manipulate the velcro, but the reason why he would offer up his vest to her distracted her from any other thought. "He's still out here," she said in hushed tones.

He shook his head, "We're still searching for the suspect, for Hoyt. We have to assume you'd be a target if he's close."

Nodding her head, she allowed Gabriel to slip the armor over her head, and tried to move her arms enough for him to readjust the straps. "What about you Sergeant?" she asked, not able to bear the thought if someone died because they sacrificed for her.

"We've only got about a mile to walk to get you in an ambulance and on your way. I'll take my chances with this team," he said nodding toward the other officers.

With the attention back on the uniforms flanking the detective and FBI agent, one stepped forward with a canteen and a small first aid kit. "There's not much in the kit, but you can dress the wounds, we can secure the area until you're both ready."

Agent Dean nodded, taking the offered items as Jane thanked them all for their actions. Then the four officers moved out in either direction, giving the pair some space. Gabriel opened the kit to take inventory of the supplies. If he had been in starring in a movie, he imagined a heavenly melody playing when he spotted some antiseptic and gauze. "This might sting," he told her opening one of the white packets.

Nodding in understanding, she looked away. The brash detective issued a string of f-words, each one conjugated in ways Dean had never heard before. She caught one of the younger officers smirk despite the situation. Once her left hand was professionally dressed, Gabriel unwrapped her right hand and repeated the process. So did Jane.

"Those are brand new words, Detective," Sergeant Burke said with amusement touching his words.

"That's how we roll in Homicide," she returned before taking some sips of water from the offered canteen. "You need water too," she told Gabriel. "And some first aid on that head laceration."

He drank the water, but closed up the first aid kit, more concerned about getting Jane in the hands of qualified medical personnel than taking care of his superficial cuts. "Ready?" he asked her.

Sensing it was time, the men surrounding them snapped to attention and closed in around the pair they were determined to protect and lead to safety. Gabriel braced Jane under the elbows and lifted her small frame up with one swift motion. She wobbled slightly, feeling light headed. Likely a combination of the sudden movement and the low blood pressure from the loss of blood. Once she was steady on her feet, Dean released her arms and the men moved in a diamond formation around the exhausted pair.

-/-

Maura paced back and forth along the dirt road. Five minutes was all it had taken Korsak to drive them both to the designated rally point. The ambulance arrived shortly after they had and several officers had arrived at staggered intervals. They would all confirm their fellow officer was safe before rejoining the rest of the Boston Police Department and FBI agents that were still searching for the fugitive that had demanded all hands on deck.

Finally, Maura saw movement. It was all she needed to send her forward in a dead sprint. "Jane!" Maura yelled now making out six figures weaving through the brush. Everything moved in slow motion as her brain was flooded with adrenalin.

Seeing Maura in the distance, Jane's body slowly started shutting down. She could stop pushing her body to its limit, her friends were there. Stopping her movement, Gabriel attempted to steady her, but she was already sinking to her knees so he moved with her, comforting her along the way. Once they were sitting on the forest floor, she leaned against his chest, her entire body relaxing.

By the time Maura reached Jane, she was almost unconscious. "Jane, keep your eyes open, stay with us," she pleaded. Her friend's eyes fluttered shut and then snapped open. She would do her best to obey Dr. Isles. "She's in shock, we need to get her to the hospital," Maura told Agent Dean who acted swiftly, ignoring the weak protests, he scooped the injured woman up into his arms and ran toward the ambulance waiting on the trail with doors open.

The gurney's wheels hit the ground before the patient arrived. Gabriel gently eased Jane down and backed away to give the EMTs room to work. As he moved back, Korsak, Frost and Maura all moved forward, unintentionally forming a line of concern, each were helpless to do anything other than look on and let the professionals do their jobs.

"We need a line…"

"…pupils equal and reactive…"

"…BP 85 over 50…"

Maura's hand covered her mouth. The blood pressure was dangerously low.

A thermal blanket was tucked under Jane's arms and around her torso and legs. With ease, she was loaded into the rig, but Korsak stepped forward before the doors shut. "We need a uniform with her, she's still in danger and needs 24 hour guard."

The lead paramedic nodded consent, "We can take one, but they need to stay out of our way if she crashes."

Nodding, Korsak turned to the sea of police officers that had gathered. Almost as a unit, they all stepped forward. Vince pointed to the sergeant that had been in charge of the team that recovered the fallen detective. "Burke, don't let her out of your sight," he said watching the older sergeant give a determined shake of the head and stepped into the ambulance. Korsak closed the doors and pounded twice on the metal signaling the all clear to the driver.

No one spoke a word until the lights were out of sight. Then, Vince turned to the small crowd. "Everyone, rejoin your teams, we have a fugitive to apprehend," he instructed and turned toward the three people still standing in line, looking much worse for the wear. "Agent Dean, we've got another EMS crew near the primary crime scene. Should I summon it?" he asked.

Gabriel shook his head, "No, everything is superficial. I'd like to help find Hoyt if you have a spot for me?"

The older detective assessed the young agent and finally softened. "We could use you at the crime scene. Help us fill in the blanks. I'll take you there," he said pointing to the sedan ten feet away then he turned to address his friends. "Maura, Frost, go to the hospital. The family needs to be notified and the security detail needs to be coordinate."

Two people had never looked so relieved. Exchanging glances with Korsak and Dean, they all moved to their respective vehicles.

-/-

The two men sat in silence, neither one knowing what to say to the other. Agent Dean scanned the tree line, knowing it was foolish to think Hoyt would be foolish enough to have stayed in the reserve. He was long gone.

He looked at the clock that glowed 1:46. The timeline was sketchy for him and he tried to work out the order of events. Coffee, 11:00 pm. Watching her fall asleep, 12:30 am. Glass breaks, 1:45 am. Agonizing wait for Jane to come to, at least an hour, so 2:45 am. Scalpel one, 3:00 am. Scalpel two, 3:05 am. His darkest hour, 4:05 am. Jane coming to again, eternity. His own blackness of unconsciousness, close to sunrise, 6:15 am. Then he had to back up to figure out the rest of the timeline. It was 1:46. Twenty minute walk from the stream, 1:26 pm. Removal of scalpel one, 1:06 pm. Running for their lives, 11:00 am. Murder of John Stark, 10:45 am. Removal of scalpel two, 10:15 am. So driving aimlessly around the city, looking for an escape route, four hours. The thought weighed heavy on him. Four hours she rolled around in the back of the van. Waiting for him to wake up. Four hours she tried to think of an escape route, considering scalpel one and two embedded in her hands. Four hours she was forced to silently relive the previous four hours, anticipating her last hours of life.

Guilt burned deep inside him.

"She's going to push you away," Korsak said, breaking the silence. "She's never told me why, but ever since I was with her in the basement the first time, she avoids me."

The comment hung in the air.

"You can't let her. I thought she just needed space and she'd come around. The space just made it worse," he offered.

Gabriel nodded, thankful for the advice. He was at a lost for what he should do. He was a newcomer to her life, and his instinct was to let those who knew her best step in and comfort her. "Thanks," he finally said, genuinely grateful for the olive branch the older man had extended. "She's...the whole time, she cared more about what happened to me than what happened to her."

"That's Detective Jane Rizzoli for you," Vince said, not bothering to hide the sadness that laced his words. They drove in silence the rest of the way to the crime scene.

Agent Dean saw the black van appear as they rounded a bumpy curve. He looked at the clock again. 2:15 pm. Three and half hours ago they had stood their ground there. Stepping out, the agent walked around the front of the van, the body was gone, but yellow markers littered the ground. He was mildly surprised to see the markers lead toward the tree at the edge of the road. The team was competent. The fact that he was standing there and not still walking through the woods was a testament to that fact, the scene management merely confirmed it.

Vince Korsak came up behind him. "BPD have secured this scene, we turned Jane's apartment over to the FBI. We could use a walk through here and a statement back at the station when you're ready," he said.

Agent Dean moved back to the van, pointed to the duct tape in the corner, "I was there. They used duct tape around my hands, legs, and ankles like the other victims. They got cocky with her. They left the scalpels in her hands and must have thought she wouldn't be a threat so they never replaced her bindings," Dean paused and looked at the sergeant detective. "She pulled the scalpel right out of her hand with her teeth and then used it to cut me free."

Each man looked into the van, imaging the strength and determination such an action required.

"I had to leave the tape on my mouth. Our only advantage was surprise," he continued to explain. "We had to wait maybe 30 minutes before we stopped here. Hoyt pulled Jane out of the van. I couldn't see anything, but heard what was happening." He paused, haunted by the events. "Hoyt left to find a place to bring us. I waited until Jane could signal me that Hoyt was out of sight. I heard some scuffling, but couldn't risk moving too soon. Finally, I heard Stark yell in pain and knew she was fighting back. When I got out of the van, he had her pinned against the tree. I subdued him and we ran."

Korsak nodded. It was a very sterile recounting of events. Professional, guarded. John Stark's cause of death was preliminary found to be a broken neck. Dr. Isles had brought in Dr. Pike, but had issued a string of orders regarding the autopsy. Vince suspected Pike was too afraid to draw definitive conclusions without the approval of the chief ME.

"Any leads on Hoyt?" the agent asked.

Korsak shook his head, "No, we're expanding the search. The area has been pretty thoroughly canvased. I think the FBI will take over that search. We don't have the manpower to search indefinitely."

-/-

Hoyt moved through alley ways, trying to stay in the shadows. When he had returned to the van and saw the body he knew his opportunity had been squandered. Why had be underestimated his Jane? The two were on foot, but likely armed. There was no reason to risk getting caught and he ran to the only person he knew could help him in the city, Emily Stern.

Finally seeing his destination across the street, he hugged the side of house before crossing the street. He hadn't seen a patrol car in about 30 minutes and was feeling confident that they had decided to clear the area and focused their attention elsewhere.

Quickly crossing the street, he moved a lose board covering a basement window. A musty smell hit his senses, but it was better than prison. Slipping through the window, he landed on a large freezer chest. Knowing its contents he smiled. Round three would be fun, but he needed to be patient.


	5. Jane let them in

What if…

Chapter 5:...Jane let them in

The antiseptic smell of the hospital comforted Maura as she sat staring at her best friend. She hated Charles Hoyt. She had never met him, but he had still managed to take so much from her. She hadn't met Jane before she was permanently scarred by the serial killer which meant she had never known a Jane Rizzoli that didn't carry with her a dark yet vulnerable edge. It was rare Maura could be the confidant for happy moments, instead, she more often offered Jane sleepless nights comforting her after particularly dark nightmares. Now, he had even robbed her the comfort of holding Jane's hand. Those hands now laid resting on Rizzoli's chest heavily bandaged. Bruises marred her neck and face. Dried blood stuck to her hair. At first Dr. Isles thought the medical team had missed a head injury, but after searching her scalp for any sign of laceration she realized it was blood from her hands that had no doubt seeped toward her hair while she was pinned to the floor.

She had told the staff to keep some of the details regarding Jane's injuries private until they spoke to her. There were details the family didn't need to know until Jane was ready for them to know. A movement across the room interrupted her thoughts. Angela was up and pacing again.

"I hate this," the older woman breathed out. "She needs to quit this job."

"Ma," Frankie warned. "That's got nothing to do with you. It's her decision."

"Oh sure, take her side. You still want to follow in her footsteps?" she asked pointing to the bed.

Maura and Frankie exchanged a look. Now wasn't the time to argue. "I think we need to support her until she's ready to have that conversation," Maura said rationally. The words clearly sunk in as Angela sank back down into her chair. Frankie offered a grateful smile. Nodding, the ME returned her attention to her friend who was now starting to move in her sleep. She recognized the jerking movements. Nightmares. Feeling the need to shield both Jane and her family the momentary fear that followed the dreams, she looked up to Angela, "I think she's waking up. Angela, can you go get the doctor, she'll want some pain meds as soon as she's assessed her. And Frankie, ice chips will be needed."

They both stood, neither objected and each one looked a little relieved to have a task to accomplish. Once the room was vacated, Maura stood up and smoothed Jane's hair back, "Easy Jane, your safe now."

The detective's hand shot up, trying to push away the person she sensed hovering over her. Maura expertly caught her forearm, sparing both women the pain that would have resulted in a contact blow.

"No," Jane whispered, squeezing her eyes tight. Preparing herself for more pain.

"Jane, its Maura. You're in the hospital," she explained calmly.

The tension in her brow faded, and slowly Jane opened her eyes. Maura watched her large, dilated pupils adjust to the harsh florescent lights. It wasn't until she saw recognition set it did she gently set Jane's hand gently back to its resting place atop her chest. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

A pause. Rizzoli scanned the room, taking in her environment. "I'm guessing about as good as I look," she answered wryly. "Where's Gabriel?"

Maura pushed down the momentary defensiveness she felt. The two had just spent a terrible fifteen hours together, of course she would be concerned about him. "He's with Korsak," she said. "He stayed back to help them process the scene."

Before Jane could reply, the door opened and a doctor walked in followed by Angela and Frankie. "Janie," Frankie breathed in relief and cross the room in three long strides. His free hand reached out to rub her leg. Everyone watched Jane flitch at the contact.

Maura swallowed down a lump in her throat. She suspected he knew why his touch had elicited such a reaction, and wondered if she had done the right thing keeping the family in the dark about the ordeal their loved one had suffered.

Jane attempted to distract her brother, "Is that water?"

"Ice chips," he said quietly. Maura was certain the younger brother had an idea of what had happened, but his love for his sister likely kept denial alive. He gave her a few chips and set the cup back down and kept his hands to himself.

"Can I talk to the doctor alone," she finally said after registering the stranger's presence who was silently studying a chart at the end of the bed. Angela and Frankie hesitated. Jane looked to Maura, a plea of help evident in her unspoken request.

"Come on, I could use some coffee," Dr. Isles said, herding Jane's family out the door.

Jane, for her part, did her best to squash the guilt she felt after seeing the hurt on each of their faces. She reminded herself she was protecting them. Once the door closed she turned back to the young red head that was waiting patiently at the foot of the bed. Jane moved to push herself up, trying to be in a less vulnerable position, but hissed in pain.

The doctor moved to manipulate a small gray remote, elevating the head of the bed until the detective was sitting upright, her hands resting in her lap. Sensing the needs of her patient, the doctor sat in the chair next the bed, eye level with the brunette. "Detective Rizzoli, I'm Doctor Elizabeth Elliot," she stuck to formalities, trying to preserve her patient's dignity. "I saw you when you first arrived, do you remember me?"

A faint recognition flashed through Jane's memory and then was gone. "I don't remember much after we got to the ambulance," she admitted.

Dr. Elliot nodded in understanding. "You were in shock, your blood pressure was very low," she started to explain never opening the file she had in her hands. "Your hands have a serious infection we're treating with I.V. antibiotics. You actually picked up a gram negative bacteria in the forest. It can cause complications as the treatment progresses so we need to keep you on an I.V. and will be checking on you often, so I apologize up front for the lack of sleep you'll be getting while you're here."

Jane smiled, appreciating the Doctor's approach. She knew she was about to face weeks of being handled with kid gloves, her family and friends expecting her to break down at any minute. The sense of normalcy was welcomed.

"We weren't able to suture the wounds," the red head continued. "The infection and the time they were left untreated made it impossible."

That scared Jane more than anything Hoyt had done to her, "Will I be able to work? Hold a gun? Shoot a gun?"

"It's too soon to tell, but we consulted with an excellent orthopedic surgeon, and he'll come by later today or tomorrow to talk about the next steps," she continued.

Nodding, Jane glanced away. Steeling herself for the next set of questions. "I need the morning after pill," she said evenly and looked back at the woman sitting next to her. She didn't react, only nodded.

"Of course, I'll take care of that right away. Dr. Isles had your assailant tested for HIV and other STDs, he was clear and wouldn't have exposed you to anything. She also checked the last physical Cedar Junction had conducted on Charles Hoyt, and we have nothing to worry about there," the doctor said evenly.

"Hoyt didn't…" Jane started to correct the assumption but stopped. Did it matter what the doctor thought?

"I'm sorry for the assumption. Dr. Isles' staff found evidence of a sedative in the blood samples they had collected, we had to assume…" the hesitation was the first sign of emotion from the doctor.

Jane shook her head, "I was with an FBI agent. He was awake….he confirmed…" Jane didn't know what else to say and was grateful when Dr. Elliot jumped in.

"I understand Dr. Isles has been trying to get Agent Dean in here to get checked over. He sounds uncooperative," she said, happy to see another faint smile. "Are there any questions for me?"

"Yeah, when do I get some pain killers?" Jane asked, the throbbing was getting harder to ignore.

"I'll have the nurse come in right away. I planned to prescribe morphine unless you have a different preference? I understand this isn't your first time with this particular injury."

"I'd prefer Percocet," Jane admitted. And waited while Dr. Elliot made some notes in her chart. "Am I ok…down there?" she asked feeling slightly childish.

Stopping mid-order, the doctor looked up, "There was some minor tearing and some bleeding. I'm sure you have some soreness, but you should be healed before they discharge you. Would you like to talk to anyone?"

Jane considered the offer, and then spoke in hushed tones, "No, BPD will assign a shrink. Thank you though."

Nodding Dr. Elliot stood. "I'm on call tonight, if you need anything, ask one of the nurses to page me. Dr. Tucker should be by later to discuss the best next steps for your hands."

"Thanks doc," Jane said and leaned back against her pillow. Enjoying the momentary silence. Her injuries would make it impossible to be alone for several weeks. She was familiar with this recovery. It would be humiliating. She wouldn't be able to shower by herself, go to the bathroom by herself, eat on her own, change her clothes… and that was the physical toll. Hours of therapy (physical and emotional) were ordered when she had only been stabbed by the scalpel and held for less than an hour. This time, she'd be lucky to work a case by the end of the year, assuming this Dr. Tucker was able to repair the damage that had been done.

Then there would be the hovering from her mother, the cleaning, and the passive aggressive comments about her job. She already felt her stress levels rising. What were her choices? Stay with Maura and put her in danger? As long as Hoyt was on the run, anyone close to her would be a target.

Her solitude was short lived a knock interrupted her thoughts and the door opened to reveal Barry Frost. "Hey," she welcomed him.

He seemed to hesitate in the doorway. Jane saw a uniformed officer standing guard outside the door while Barry tried to decide what to do. "Can I come in?" he finally asked.

"Of course, come here, sit down," she cocked her head toward the chair the doctor had just vacated. "You're just in time, my nose itches."

-/-

Gabriel Dean walked down the deserted halls of the hospital. The night shift had started, reminding him how exhausted he was. After a shower, a change of clothes, a statement at BPD, a debriefing with agents at the federal building, and a mandatory medical assessment it was hard for him to believe it was still the same, terrible day. Still he had one more reason to stay on his feet, Detective Jane Rizzoli. There was no reason to ask the nurse what room she was in, two police officers flanked her door. As he approached they stood to challenge him. He flashed his credentials and when they recognized his name they stood down.

Tapping quietly, he poked his head into the room and was surprised to see it empty. Turning to greet the visitor, Jane offered a genuine smile. "You look a lot better than the last time I saw you," she told him.

He smiled, "You look like you still need a shower," he told her honestly making his way to her bedside.

"Have you slept?" she asked reaching for him, but realizing the futility of such an action.

He shook his head, "I wanted to see you first."

Doing her best to shift over and make room for him, he looked around. "Where is everyone?" he asked before moving.

"I sent my folks and Frankie home, they couldn't keep their eyes open anymore. Frost went to help with the manhunt and Dr. Pike has Maura all spun up over some missing instruments. She said she'd back later, I think she knew I needed some time…" her voice trailed off.

"I can leave, I just wanted to see you—"

"—don't go," Jane interrupted. "Please, just stay for a bit. They don't understand, they can't understand what happened." Tears welled up in her eyes.

Without another hesitation he removed his shoes and slid onto bed. Wrapping his arms around her, she leaned heavily against him and wept. Several tears had fallen over the previous 24-hours, but the pent up emotions couldn't be held at bay any longer. His own tears rolled down his cheeks responding to her anguish.

-/-

Maura opened the door to Jane's hospital room. It was nearly 6 am, she hadn't planned to be away so long, but she had heard through the grape vine that Agent Dean was with her and she wanted to give them some time. What they both went through together required processing and decompression and she didn't want to get in the way. She wasn't surprised to see them both still sleeping on her bed.

Not wanting to wake either one, she started to back out, but before she could close the door, noise erupted from the nurse's station and invaded the room. Both occupants jumped awake. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she apologized back out. "I'll come back."

"No," Jane stopped her. "Come in. We haven't been able to talk without Ma and Frankie hovering."

Dr. Isles watched Gabriel give Jane's shoulders a squeeze and then stood. "I'm going to check on the search, take care of the apartment, and will be back this afternoon," he promised and leaned in to kiss her.

She welcomed the affection, "Ok, thanks for last night."

Nodding curtly, he smiled and left the room.

"I didn't mean to run him off," Maura said apologetically sitting in the chair next to the bed.

"It's ok Maura, I wanted to spend some time with you and thank you for managing my family," she told her. "And helping Dr. Elliot…"

"It was the least I could, Jane," she said, casting a sympathetic look. "How are you?"

"Honestly?" she asked, glad Maura had come. "Feeling dirty. Could you figure out how I can get a shower or bath?"

"Of course," Maura stood, ready to take action. "There's a large bathtub on the third floor. Want me to get a nurse?"

Looking down, Jane looked embarrassed. "Could you…would you be willing to help? I'm not sure I can handle a stranger…"

"Absolutely," she agreed, feeling honored she would trust her so much. They were close, but even when they would crash at each other's homes, Jane was always very modest. Pushing the call button, it took a matter of seconds for a cheery blond clad in all pink bounced into the room. Maura intervened before the nurse could spread her cheer all over Jane. "I'm Dr. Maura Isles, we haven't met yet," she said extending her hand.

"Janet Benson," she introduced herself shaking hands.

"Nurse Benson, could you arrange for me to take Detective Rizzoli down to one of the bathtubs on the third floor?"

Her gaze shifted from Maura to Jane. She hadn't been briefed on the patient that arrived the day before, but the armed guards outside the door confirmed this wasn't an ordinary patient and would accept the unorthodox request without question. "I'll check the schedule and bring a wheel chair in as soon as it's available. Is there anything you need?"

Maura shook her head and turned her attention back to Jane.

"Thanks," Jane said relieved her friend had intervened for her.

They sat in silence for a moment, until Maura's curiosity got the better of her. "What did you decide to do about the apartment?" she asked.

"Gabriel is going to help schedule some movers and get ma focused on finding me a new place," she explained. "It will keep her busy and I won't have to go back there. Win-win."

"You can stay—" Maura started to offer her guest house, but was stopped by her friend's vehement head shaking.

"—I can't stay with you as long as Hoyt's still out there. He doesn't know about you, and I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you," she explained.

Before either woman could say another word, Nurse Benson returned with a wheel chair. "You're in luck, several of the personal care areas are available. I reserved room 325 for four hours. Take your time."

"Thank you," Jane said and started to fidget. She was more than ready to wash away the dirt and dried blood.

The nurse moved to the bedside to maneuver the I.V. pole while Maura helped the brunette into the chair. Once she was certain the patient was secure and in expert hands. She transferred the I.V. bag to the hook built into wheel chair. "There's soap, shampoo and some plastic covers set up in the room. If you need anything else, call our station, 8-7567. There's a phone in the room," she instructed and held the door open for the women.

Maura looked to the two officers, "We're going down to the third floor from some therapy."

Jane smiled grateful for the messaging Maura used. Looking to the two men, her smile grew wider, "Sergeant Burke," she greeted the familiar face.

"Detective, good to see you up and about," he said. "Officer Jackson will stay and keep this room secure, I'll accompany you."

And with that, they moved toward the elevators. After a short ride, Sergeant Burke exited and moved forward.

"Room 325," Maura instructed and followed the escort to the designated door.

Jane knew the "therapy" session would be revealed once he stepped inside, but she considered the man who entered the room with his hand resting on the handle of his weapon. He had risked his life for her and was continuing to lay his life on the line. Letting him know she was taking a bath seemed like a small price to pay for the safety he offered. Nodding as he cleared the room, he held the door open. "I'll be right outside," he said, voicing the obvious but it stilled made Jane feel better knowing he was there.

Maura moved Jane next to the large bathtub. I was clearly made to accommodate a large variety of sizes. The ME transferred the I.V. bag to a new hook and busied herself with the plastic coverings to protect the gauze laden hands. Then she removed Jane's socks and helped her stand. "Ready?" she asked not wanting to make the woman in front of her uncomfortable.

Jane nodded and turned to give her friend access to the snaps in the back holding the hospital gown together. Allowing it to slip off the slender frame, Jane stepped back and tried to keep the embarrassment at bay while Maura removed her underwear. Her cheeks blushed when she realized they weren't hers. "Those are interesting," she said eyeing the 'granny panties.'

Maura chuckled, "Hospital issue. They open and wash new undergarments for patients when needed. They're one time use I promise," she explained helping Jane settle down into the porcelain tub and turned the knobs, testing the water temperature with her wrist. "Your mom brought you a bag of your own clothes yesterday," she said pointing to a small black duffle bag hanging from the back of the wheel chair handles.

Relieved to know she'd emerge from the room clean and in her own clothes, she relaxed, allowing the warm water that had started filling up the tub creep up and wrap its tendrils around her sore legs. While Jane's attention was elsewhere, Maura assessed the visible marks that peppered the toned muscles. Angry phantom hand prints screamed at the ME. She forced herself to turn away before Jane noticed the emotions playing across her face.

The steam rose up and enveloped Jane and she watched Maura fussing with the different soaps and shampoos on the shelf across the room. "Maura," she breathed. "The kind of soap doesn't matter."

"I'm just trying to find a shampoo that's actually a base. You know these cheap shampoos are acids, acids don't clean, they just strip the hair—"

"Maura," Jane interrupted. Finally her friend turned to face her. "The unmistakable evidence of tears marked her cheeks. "Just come here, and stop."

Dr. Isles collapsed in the wheel chair next to the detective. "I'm so sorry, Jane," she whispered and rubbed her shoulder. Unable to return the comforting gesture, Jane leaned her cheek on the back of her friend's hand.

"I'm going to be ok," she said and let the water rise as her friend comforted her.


End file.
